To: Daenerys Targaryen, First of Her Name, so on, and so forth.
Your security detail sucks great big rocks off of the ocean floor. No, I take that back -- if they sucked they'd actually be useful for something.
You do realise that your dramatic return to your home dirt could have been cut short -- nay, pounded flat -- by a half-starved, illiterate beggar with a big rock, a bit of leverage, and a decent understanding of gravity?
What the hell did you think you were doing by tip-toeing through the tulips of a castle (maybe) formerly held lock, stock, piglet by enemy forces; and you two body-lengths ahead of your five-man security detail? A security detail which also appears to be the advance party/survey section of your amphibious landing?
No, wait. Your security detail is made up of the same people who were getting their butts handed to them by a bunch of business-men in stupid masks and skirts earlier. My bad.
I don't remember what they cost you, but I seriously think you over-paid.
Yes, I understand that you're "The Queen". I don't care. Unless you relish the title of "The Former Queen, Gods Rest Her Soul", sit on your hands on a ship until the entire island has been searched -- twice -- by loyal forces, and the castle has been searched, dusted, searched, sanitised, and searched. Then you can pull your MacArthur imitation in the centre of a properly-trained security cordon.
I swear unto Cheeto Jeezuz that idiot clients like you are what give the Personal Protection business a bad name.